Family Ties
by RedHeadedWoman91
Summary: The Weasley family is strong and close but after the death of Fred their relationships have been strained at best. Now it is the day of the funeral and slowly, slowly they are beginning to heal. Each chapter will focus on different people/pairs/groups
1. Ginny and George

Ginny sat in the bright sunshine watching the clouds roll by. It was an absolutely beautiful day, the kind of day that always made Ginny want to fly. But not today. Today she had to bury one of her brothers.

Ginny had been sitting outside for the best part of two hours. She couldn't stand to be inside The Burrow anymore. It was too quiet, too… empty. Sure, there were a bunch of people in there but it still seemed empty. Ginny had escaped the obsessive cleaning of her mother, her father's tinkering with a plug, Harry's brooding, Charlie's anger, Percy's guilt, Ron's overwhelming exhaustion, Hermione's anxiousness, Bill's brave face, Fleur's mothering, and, worst of all, George's silence. George hadn't said a word since the battle and didn't look as though he ever would again. Ginny hadn't been able to bear any of it and so she had left unnoticed. Everyone was too wrapped up in their pain and grief to notice, or to care.

Ginny closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall of the house. She breathed deeply and slowly, trying to calm her nerves. The soft breeze blew through her hair, the sun warmed her face, and her heart slowed to an agonizing pace. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't think. She couldn't do anything. Ginny rested her hand over her heart and opened her eyes. She took a deep, shuddering breath, stood up and started running. She jumped over the back fence and kept running. She ran until the Burrow looked as big her thumb. Ginny stood, panting, in the hot sunshine staring down at her home. Then she screamed.

Ginny screamed loud and long. She screamed so long that she ran out of breath and fell onto the soft grass, facing the sky. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and despite not having any breath left in her body, she kept sobbing. Her sobs filled the air and her tears fell down onto the grass. Ginny clamped a hand over eyes and tried to stop the tears. She was stronger than this. She had survived a whole year being tormented by two Death Eaters and all of Slytherin House. She had survived a personal encounter with the young Tom Riddle. She had survived so much; she couldn't break down. Not now, not before… the funeral.

Ginny sat up and furiously brushed away the tears. She knew that her family would notice but she didn't care. As Ginny started slowly walking back to the house she couldn't help thinking about all the other funerals that she would be going to. And she would go to every single one. She had to pay her respects to everyone who had fought and died in the war. If that meant days and days of crying it didn't matter. So long as she got to say goodbye to the people she loved and cared about. Ginny ran her hand over her face and was surprised to find that she was crying again. Ginny groaned and mentally slapped herself. She had to pull herself together. She had to be strong.

When Ginny finally climbed back over the fence she found Bill standing in the middle of the yard, looking up at the sky. Ginny bit her lip and wondered if he had been waiting for her. As she got closer, Ginny noticed that Bill had tears running down his cheeks. His scars were brighter in the sunshine and Ginny could hardly bear to look at them. She brushed away the last of her tears and cleared her throat. Bill looked at her and kind of smiled.

'Hey, Gin. I knew you'd come back eventually.' Bill wiped away his own tears and sat down on the grass. Ginny went over and sat down next to him. Bill wrapped an arm around his little sister's shoulders and she leaned her head against him. 'We're gonna be okay, Gin.'

'How do you know, Bill? We won't ever be the same. Fred's de… Fred's gone and he ain't coming back. How can we ever be okay without him? Without George?'

'Honestly? I don't know. I just know that we're all strong and we can pull each other through this. We've got each other and that's all we need. George will be okay. He just needs time.'

'I sure hope so.' Ginny wiped her eyes. Bill smiled and kissed her forehead.

'Go talk to him, Ginny. He won't listen to the rest of us. Not even Charlie if he were up to it. George and Fred always did listen to you. Go on.'

'Okay.' Ginny stood up and went back inside. She glanced at Charlie sitting on his own, Percy sitting next her dad, Ron and Hermione sitting side by side, Harry sitting on his own, her mother cleaning the surface of the Weasley family clock which still had a hand for Fred. Ginny didn't stop to talk to any of them and instead walked straight past all of them and went to up to what used to be Fred and George's room. Ginny hesitated at the door considering whether or not to knock or just walk in. Ginny sighed, opened the door and walked in. George was sitting on the bed staring down at a photo frame he was holding loosely in his hands. Ginny sat down on the bed next to him and almost burst into tears when she looked down at the picture. The photo had been taken while they had been in Egypt after they had won the _Daily Prophet _draw. Ginny could see herself standing in between Ron and Fred. Ginny remembered the holiday fondly. Even Charlie had come with them. Ginny gently took the photo out of George's hands and put it down on the bed beside her. George turned away from her and stared out the window. Ginny placed her hand on George's shoulder.

'George?' Ginny whispered. George's head inclined slightly, indicating that he had heard her, but other than that he didn't respond. 'George, I just wanted to say that… we're here for you. Whether you like it or not.' Ginny attempted a laugh but it came out as something closer to a sob. This time George did respond. He turned to her and enveloped her in the tightest hug that he had ever given her. Ginny hugged him back and somehow managed to hold back another flood of tears. She could, however, feel George's tears falling onto her shoulder. Ginny rubbed her brother's back and held onto him as tightly as she could. Ginny hadn't seen George cry since that night, but sometimes she had heard him crying in his room at night. Not that Ginny could blame him.

'It's okay, George. You'll be okay. We're all gonna be okay.' Ginny felt George shake his head and then he suddenly sat up straight and went over to the window. Ginny watched him closely just in case he tried to do anything stupid. George lay his forehead against the cool glass and stared out at the beautiful day. Staring out at the scenery George had an overwhelming feeling of grief knowing that Fred would never again see anything so amazing, or anything at all. George, filled with grief, rage and guilt, slammed his fist against the window pane and was mildly surprised when the glass shattered and his hand was split open. He slowly turned around to face Ginny, who sprang to her feet and raced over to him, grabbing a random scarf on the way. She wrapped the scarf tightly around George's hand and led him out of the room and began the long, slow descent to the kitchen.

Halfway down the staircase, however, Ginny heard someone coming up and moved so that George's hand was hidden from view. She didn't want her mother or father to see George right now. Instead of seeing a shock of red as she had expected Ginny saw a mane of silver hair coming around the corner and breathed a sigh of relief. Fleur would heal George's hand and not a say a word to anyone, even Bill. Fleur came around the corner and stopped when she saw them, fully intending to let them pass by her.

'Fleur, can you help us, please?'

'Of course.' Fleur looked a little confused but when George silently held out his hand to her she simply nodded and carefully removed the scarf. She very quickly healed the cuts and smiled warmly at George. 'That should do it.'

'Thanks Fleur.' Ginny spoke for her brother, who would only nod. Fleur smiled again and let them pass by her. When they reached the kitchen Ginny forced George into a chair and sat down beside him.

'Now, I'm going to talk and you're going to pay attention to me. I don't care if you're not interested you have no choice. If you try to leave or if you stop paying attention I'll tell mum about your hand,' Ginny waited for George to nod and when he did she ploughed on, not caring if she hurt him even more. 'I know that you feel like a half of you is missing and although I can't say I understand that, I don't blame you. Fred was your twin and your best mate and you miss him. I get it. But we all miss him, George. Everyone misses Fred. He was our brother as well and we miss him.

'You can't blame yourself for his death. Percy, Charlie and Ron are already doing that. None of us could have saved him no matter how much we want too. You're still here, George. You're still alive and somehow I don't think that Fred would've wanted his twin to put himself through this. You get to live George and you're wasting it. You rarely come out of your room and when you do you never talk to any of us. You haven't been back to the shop yet even though you always said that as soon as the war was over you'd re-open it no matter what happened. And now that the war's over the place is still closed and is collecting more and more dust and grime. People need laughter in their life and you're the person to give it to them. You give people a reason to laugh and that's what we need right now. We need laughter and love and hope. And you give that to people.

'George, you are my brother and I love you. I hate seeing you like this. I hate seeing you quiet and broody. That's not who you are. I know that nothing is ever going to be the same again but we have to keep going. We move on from the horror and fear and live. You have never been this person you are now. Do you know why we're all finding this harder than it should be? It's because it feels as though we've lost you as well. We miss you, George. We miss your jokes, and your smile, and your laughter. We miss you just as much as we miss Fred, except your here and he isn't. I love you, George, we all do and we want you to come back to us. If you ever need anything you know that we're here for you and we always will be. Whether you want us or not. You need to keep living. If not for yourself than for Fred.'

Ginny fell silent, her voice having finally cracked on Fred's name. George continued staring at the floor and it was only when she glanced down did Ginny notice the tears falling onto the floor. Ginny pulled her brother into a hug and held onto him tightly. Ginny could feel George's shoulder shaking and her own tears began to fell from her eyes. Although George still didn't speak Ginny knew that he was going to be okay. And if George could be okay then so could she.


	2. Percy

Percy sat in the living room of the Burrow, his head down staring at his own hands. He had suddenly found them very interesting. The way the lines on his palms were shaped, the way his knuckles jutted out slightly, the odd angle to the index finger on his left hand, the small, insignificant scar on the back of his right hand. All of these things were incredibly fascinating of late even though they held absolutely no relevance to anything.

The odd angle to his index finger was the result of a game gone wrong. Percy had, as an eight year old, been playing a game of tag with all his brothers when he has been tackled by Bill and Charlie. The broken finger had come from the fall to the hard packed soil. Percy smiled as he remembered that Fred and George had called him "crooked Percy" for a few months.

Percy felt tears welling in his eyes again and forced himself to look away from his hands. Instead he looked around the living room at the various members of his family that were still there. Charlie was sitting on a chair as far from the rest of his family as possible. Ron, Harry and Hermione were sitting together on the floor. Fleur, Bill, Ginny and George were nowhere to be seen. Percy couldn't see his mother but he could hear her moving around in some room, and his father was sitting in his armchair staring at nothing in particular.

The only sound in the house was Molly Weasley moving around. Nothing else could be heard in the Burrow and Percy didn't like it. He had never really liked all of the noise that had been created in the Weasley household but now that there was silence, Percy would have given anything and everything to hear the sound of laughter, or breaking glass, or anything. Anything but the invading and pressing silence. It felt as though the sound was destroying his eardrums. He had to get out. He had to get out into the noise of the world or he felt as though he would go mad.

Percy stood up abruptly, earning him glances from everyone in the room, and promptly went outside into the sunlight. Percy collapsed onto the grass and lay down. It had been a long time since Percy had lay in the grass staring up at the sky. He was pretty sure the last time he had done it was when he was twelve. It had been the day before his return to Hogwarts for the second year and he had wanted some peace and quiet. He had lay down in the grass and watched the clouds go by, picking out shapes as they went. He had been out there for about an hour when Fred and George had come out…

"_Watcha doin'?" asked one of the twins_

"_Watching the clouds." Percy had answered._

"_How come?"_

"_Cause it's relaxing." Percy had sighed. The twins had recently began asking a lot of questions and Percy usually had the patience to answer all of them as best he could._

"_Why?" Percy titled his head back so that he could see them. _

"_Cause I want too." Both of the twins had pulled a face at this apparently inadequate answer._

"_Can we look to?"_

"_If you want." Percy had answered, hoping that he wouldn't regret. The twins took their positions in the grass on either side of him and stared up at the clouds. After a few minutes of silence, George had suddenly pointed up at the clouds._

"_That looks like a lion." _

"_So it does." Percy had said. George had beamed widely, happy to have gotten his big brother's praise. Fred, not to be outdone, had then raised his hand._

"_That's castle!" Percy hadn't personally seen it but he didn't tell Fred that. _

"_Absolutely." _

The next two hours of that day had been spent exactly like that. Seeing things in the clouds that weren't always there. Percy suspected that they had both caught onto his lying but they had never said anything about it to him. That was one of the best days of Percy's life, and one of the happiest memories he had involving the twins.

And now, thanks to him, that's all he would have of them. That's all he would have of the twins: memories. Memories of times long gone; memories of things that may never have happened. Memories and past. No future, no present. Just past. There was no future for Fred now, and it was his fault. If only he had done something different. If had only come back to his family earlier. If only he had… if only he had what? If only he had been an entirely different person? If only he had been someone else, instead of the arrogant, career orientated prick that he was? If only he had gotten along with his family?

"_How come you don't like Quidditch?" Fred had asked Percy one day while they had been watching a match at Hogwarts. It had been the twins first year and it was the first game they had seen Bill and Charlie play. _

"_I do like Quidditch," Percy had replied, wincing as Charlie narrowly missed a Bludger. "I just don't like playing."_

"_How come?" George had asked. "The rest of us do."_

_The comment from George had surprised Percy. And it had kind of hurt. "I know you all do, but I don't. That's all." Both twins had looked at him as though they were only seeing him for the first time._

"_But you're a Weasley, and all Weasley's play Quidditch."_

"_Ron and Ginny don't play." Percy answered, wincing as this time Bill missed a Bludger._

"_Only cause they're too young. But you can tell that they will one day." Fred had answered and then promptly cheered as Charlie caught the Snitch. _

Percy had never forgotten that conversation with his brothers. They had been surprised that he didn't want to play the game even though he was a Weasley. It was just one of the many differences between him and the rest of his siblings. And Fred had been right. Percy was the only Weasley who had never played Quidditch for Gryffindor. Sure, he had sometimes played in their family games but he wasn't a very good flyer and he had always played Keeper.

Percy never played Quidditch, he very rarely found the twins jokes funny, he didn't think Bill looked cool, he had never liked Charlie's job, he found it hard to talk to Ron, but he had always doted on Ginny. That was something that he definitely shared with his brothers. The insane belief that he could protect Ginny from everything and everyone. But even then, he did it his own unique way. He had taught her useful things; things that wouldn't get her in trouble. He had never given her a detention, or taken points off her. He had shown her love and she, and all the others, had thrown it back at him when he left.

_Not that I can blame them_, Percy thought bitterly as he sat in the sun. _They had every right to throw it back at me. I deserted them and didn't want to have anything to do with them, and I lost them and their love. I lost my whole family, and now I come back to a broken family, missing one member. _

Percy stared up at the clouds, and could swear that he could see Fred's laughing face looking down at him. But the face wasn't laughing _at _him, it was laughing _because _of him. Fred was laughing because he was being an absolute idiot. Percy could almost hear Fred's voice in his head:

'_Merlin, Pearce, get over yourself and wake up. So, I'm dead. There's no point in wishing that you'd done something different when it wasn't even your fault. I was killed by an explosion. You hear me, Pearce? The great Fred Weasley was killed by an explosion! Keep living, Bighead Boy._

Percy sat up abruptly and laughed. Percy laughed long and hard until tears were running down his cheeks and he could hardly breathe. Percy knew that everything would, one day, be okay. But until then he would have to keep living. Just as Fred wanted him too.


	3. Arthur

Arthur sat in his old armchair staring at the slowly dying embers in the fireplace. He'd been sitting in the same position for just over an hour now and he didn't want to move. He had no reason to move anywhere. If he could've Arthur would have gladly sat in that same chair, un-moving, for the rest of his natural life. However, he knew that he would never be able to do that.

Arthur risked glancing over at his second eldest child but looked away again almost immediately. Charlie wasn't exactly handling things well and it showed on his face and in his mannerisms. Arthur knew that his son felt guilty about what had happened during the Battle and he wanted to do something to ease that unnecessary guilt. But how do you heal someone else' guilt when you can't even heal your own? Arthur desperately wanted to help all of his children but he was at a loss as to how he could do that. Arthur glanced up as Percy suddenly stood and went outside. Everyone in the room glanced up. Percy had been sitting in the oppressive silence longer than anyone else and they had all believed that he would be the last to stand. Arthur knew the reason behind it though. Percy had gotten frustrated with the silence that he had always longed for. Arthur didn't blame him. The silence was beginning to get to him as well.

Unlike his children, Arthur had known the Burrow as a quiet place. Once Ginny had begun attending Hogwarts the Burrow was silent for months at a time. That silence had been something of a blessing. Despite whatever trouble they were getting into, Molly and Arthur had always known that their children were out there safe and sound, and that they would be coming home again. But this silence was different. This silence was empty and painful. There was something missing in the Weasley household and that something was Fred. He was missing and the house seemed to know it.

The Burrow knew that a member of the Weasley clan was missing. The world knew, and Arthur found himself wishing that he didn't know. He didn't want to know that the family he loved so deeply was short one. He didn't want to know. Ignorance is a blessing. Maybe forgetting was even better. Arthur mused on this possibility and decided that although forgetting would be easier, it wouldn't be better. Nothing could make this better.

Arthur looked around at his children in the room. Only Charlie, Ron, Harry and Hermione were left. Although Harry and Hermione weren't his children by birth, they were his family. Besides the fact that Arthur knew without a doubt that the two of them would end up marrying into the Weasley clan. Arthur knew that his family would grow in the next few years but there would always be the hole that Fred had left. Nothing could ever fill that gaping hole but Arthur didn't want anything too. The hole would remind him of the son he had lost and everything that he had to be thankful for.

"_Dad, why does George look like me?"_

"_Because your twins." Arthur had answered simply. He had never thought that this conversation would arise. Neither had Molly, and because of that he had answered without any proper response._

"_But what's a twin?" Fred had asked, a small frown creasing his forehead._

_Arthur turned to his four year old son and surveyed him closely. Arthur had never realised before just how much Fred and George resembled each other. "Twins are people who were born at the same time to the same person. And they usually look the same." Arthur watched as Fred attempted to understand this. The small frown hadn't disappeared and he looked around at George, who was being entertained by his older brothers. _

"_So were the same. Exactly the same?"_

_Arthur had to think about that for a minute. "Not exactly, no. You and George look the same and it's almost impossible to tell you guys apart. But you are different. Being a twin means that there will always be someone who understands you and someone who will know you better than anyone else. A twin is someone who looks like you, who shares your birthday, who is your best friend. But although you are very, very, very similar your personality is different. You aren't exactly the same, but almost." Arthur finally said. To his ears his answer was quite a good one._

"_But what's… personality?"_

_Arthur sighed. "Personality is the way you act."_

"_So we act different?"_

"_Only a little." Arthur conceded. _

"_But… why do we look the same?" _

_Arthur sighed again. "You look the same because… actually, just go ask your mother."_

"_Okay!" Arthur sighed once again as his son bounced off to annoy his mother._

Arthur smiled at the unbidden memory and wondered how the twins had dealt with looking different all of a sudden after the loss of George's ear. Arthur had never actually asked either of them because they had both taken it in their stride, George especially. Arthur figured that if there had been a problem he would have heard about it. Although Fred and George had always been loud you could tell when they were upset. They would fall silent and wouldn't play any jokes on anyone. Usually the problem was resolved by the other twin and Molly and Arthur had very rarely been forced to get in involved.

Arthur closed his eyes and leant his head back. There was a hole in his heart that nothing would ever fill, and Arthur didn't mind. He needed that hold to remind him that the war was over, he was alive, the world was beginning to slowly, slowly heal, and he was missing a child. The hole was what fed him, what told him to keep going because he knew that the rest of his family would have that hole in their heart. George more than anyone. Arthur opened his eyes just as Bill, Ginny, and George walked into the room. Arthur, without thinking, stood and walked over to him. Without hesitating, Arthur put his arms around George and hugged him to his chest. George didn't react initially but after a few seconds he wrapped his own arms around his father's waist and held on.

'It's okay, George. We're going to be okay."


End file.
